


The Trust Job

by haventquitefinished



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Gen, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 13:17:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3611454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haventquitefinished/pseuds/haventquitefinished
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allison and Lydia are two of the top agents at The Beacon. When they get put together on an assignment to apprehend a fellow spy, they must set aside their differences in order to capture a team of criminals that keep evading - and confusing - them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Trust Job

**Author's Note:**

> Note that this is just an Allison/Lydia friendship fic. This is also an almost crossover fic. Skip to the end notes if you want the fic spoiled for you by finding out exactly what kind of crossover.
> 
> Disclaimers: All my lame spy talk comes from various spy-oriented tv shows. None of this is meant to be affiliated with any real people or actual organizations. I did reference to real life locations all throughout this fic but that in no way makes this story anything but pure fiction. I do not own anything recognizable; all rights to their respective owners!
> 
> Warnings: There is one casual death mentioned right at the beginning. Minor swearing. Very small amounts of violence. Apologies if I missed something big! Basically, expect some of the scenes you would expect in a spy au.
> 
> Thanks to: G, for beta-reading this in its very early stage and reading it again when it was a bit better, and the mods of this exchange for working so hard to make this bang fun and cooperative.
> 
> [Anga](http://rebecca-suttr.tumblr.com), thank you for your incredibly beautiful art, which is inserted into the story. I hope you find this fic to be a least a little fun to read and somewhat worthy of being associated with your amazing talent.

**_Allison_ **

**0800 hours  
** **Morocco**

Allison ducks behind a desk and reloads her gun as quick as she can. In a matter of seconds, she’s able to fire a few shots back at the dozens being shot at her.

Taking a short second to scan around the room from her vantage point, she sighs when no plain exits are in sight.

Allison curses as a bullet blasts through the desk mere inches away from her elbow. It’s only a matter of time before the rich furniture splinters to pieces. She takes a breath.

“Well, if you can’t find any exits,” she mumbles, fiddling with her belt with her left hand and taking a couple of poorly aimed shots with her right, “then you make your own.”

She grips the gun between her teeth and jumps out from behind the desk to her right. She doesn’t think of the shots being aimed right at her, instead forces her attention solely on hooking the belt up and around a lamp positioned into the wall. She hits a small button on the belt strap after securely its place and only then allows herself to take a few defensive shots.

Upon narrowly missing an otherwise nasty hit, Allison takes her gun into both hands and fires her least favourite of shots. A man goes down a short moment after and it startles the shooters for just long enough; people don’t realize how often kill shots make everyone pause.

She takes a hold of the lamp and smirks at the awed faces when the wall behind her gives way, shooting backwards with rapid speed. She loosens her grip on the lamp, now coming slowly off the wall due to the force of travel. But before the lack of support can send her tumbling to the asphalt, Allison jumps off the still flying wall and rolls into a bed of purple flowers.

Brushing herself off, she spares a worried thought at the wall sure to crash into some historical building. Stilinski won’t let her hear the end of it, she’s sure. As long as no one innocent gets hurt, she couldn’t care less.

Allison glances down at her feet and sighs, hoping the flowers are not poisonous. She’s never been able to decipher plants well at all. Still, she feels bad enough to run up to the house the garden seems to belong to.

(She tries not to dwell on what she actually feels bad about. Being a spy means having red hands; it’s unavoidable.)

The house is beautiful, actually, the type of home she imagines has been in a family for generations. Though she supposes the proximity to one of The Raven’s bases is a poor selling point, to those who know about the organization’s activities.

An elderly lady answers the door with a bright smile. “Good day?”

Allison smiles back and nods. She isn’t very good at speaking Arabic but she does understand it well enough. Her mind races to come up with a way to apologize for squishing her flowers but before she can, a voice from within the house calls out, “Ma’am?” in practiced Spanish.

Allison recognizes the voice almost immediately.

“Allison?” says a surprised but smiling Scott McCall.

The lady hurries to Scott’s side, whispers something urgently at him, and then hurries further into the house.

“I’ve got to go,” Allison insists when Scott walks over to her to say hi. Scott merely smiles; she’d almost forgotten how much he does that. “What are you even doing here?” Part of her is already getting angry at the agency for putting another agent on the same assignment as her.

But Scott shrugs and doesn’t elaborate. “Just here for the sites,” he adds after Allison raises an eyebrow at him. He grins at her again. “Want to join me for a Moroccan dinner? I bet you haven’t even eaten anything the hotel didn’t have set up in your room.”

Allison cracks a small smile. “Maybe another time, okay?”

Scott turns when he hears his name being called from inside before looking back at Allison. “Well, take care then!” He says brightly before shutting the door gently. She hears an excited Spanish conversation going on in between Scott’s bursts of laughter and spares a moment to wonder why Scott is staying with strangers when the agency gives them access to five star hotels.

Allison walks away and glances at the dying flowers she forgot to apologize for before she remembers their name. Clematis flowers, she recalls. Scott went on one day about how the flowers would grow to enormous amounts without much effort from the gardener at all.

He’d followed that odd conversation by immediately mapping out his dream road trip, telling Allison in startlingly vivid detail exactly where he would visit and why. Allison promised they would do it one day.

Then they were drafted to the agency, together, sure, but not for long thereafter. It was easier to remain occasional colleagues, the spy life too demanding for a steady relationship and their young plans.

Which reminds her, there’s a handful of exceedingly clever people trying to create a computer virus that Allison needs to prevent. She bypasses the flowers and shoves the nearby agent out of her mind.

+

**_Lydia_ **

**0600 hours  
** **San Diego**

It’s too early for this, really. She hasn’t yet had her morning coffee or breakfast and the sun is still that hazy orange colour. If the sun’s not fully awake yet, she insists that she shouldn’t be either.

Still, this is her first lead in a long two days and she would have to be an idiot to let the opportunity go by. And Lydia is no idiot. She’s hungry, but definitely not stupid.

Which is why she’s so pissed off at herself when a total of three minutes later, she’s roped to a chair, gun resting against her temple. In those short few minutes, she’s heard the con man give a long speech about how he isn’t really a bad guy, watched two henchmen shoot each other to brag about who had better endurance, seen sixteen spiders sit idly by, and came up with a plan to save the day.

It’s her smirk that finally shuts the madman up.

“What?” He snaps, angry probably more at being interrupted than anything.

“Just, I’ve already figured out where the statue is hidden, which of your men is my FBI contact, and what I plan to have for breakfast in an hour or so.”

One of her best skills isn’t pushing people’s buttons, it’s getting others to push their own with only a small nudge from Lydia.

“You couldn’t possibly — ” He shouts. She cannot believe she’s spent nearly five days chasing this guy. Ugh, she feels so foolish suddenly for letting him escape her for so long.

Time to end this then.

Lydia nods her head at the guy who is clearly sulking about his partner having more pain tolerance than him. Nothing easier and faster than kicking a man while he’s down.

“You,” she says, ignores the con man trying to get her to shut up with frantic waves of his hands, “just got shot by a suit. Looks like civilized training really is better than whatever you’ve been taught.”

The smaller of the two men glares at the larger one who is hurriedly trying to insist he isn’t an FBI agent. Lydia fights down her grin when they both hold their guns out at each other.

“Hey, knock it off! I would’ve known if we had a mole! Stop it! There’s no leak in our oppora—”

But the two men are done listening to their superior. They shoot each other for more than fun this time and Lydia uses the distraction to kick back on her chair’s legs with force, breaking them and effectively causing the chair to collapse. Just as she thought — IKEA furniture really is a hostages best friend.

She uses one of the broken back spindles to block the third and final henchmen’s knife attack. It’s all too easy. Lydia can’t help herself from yawning and causing the man to get angry and use too much energy in his next hit. When she dodges his lunge, he falls heavily into… a pile of empty boxes, of _course_.

She tosses the chair’s spindle to the side, thanks her fencing classes at her private school for proving to be helpful in the field as opposed to ridiculous like her younger self once proclaimed.

“You may have thrown my team off, but you’ll never find the statue!” Oh my god, was this guy for real? How many cartoon bad guy cliches is he going to use before he realizes he has lost?

Lydia rolls her eyes and points at a red crate a short distance away. “Last one there’s a poorly crafted together bad guy with no taste in tailored suits?” She asks condescendingly before running at top speed.

She’s there first, of course, and grabs the statue out of the crate before running along the piles of crates in the warehouse. She dials for backup while on the move before glancing behind her. Ugh, the henchmen are chasing her, but she’s lost sight of where the con man went.

She hits the ground finally and scans quickly for a point of exit. There’s one, but it’s being blocked by the boss who has a gun pointed steadily at her. The henchmen are still a few meters away so Lydia gives herself a total of fourteen seconds to cuff the con man and take his gun.

She does it in six.

SWAT rolls in around thirty-four seconds, but there’s really no need. Lydia has it handled.

+

**_Allison_ **

**1900 hours  
** **London**

Perhaps she overestimated the demanding nature of Stilinski’s schedule. She captured The Raven’s head honcho yesterday, sure, but it’s not as though she’ll be getting promoted for it. And the only reason she can think of for why Stilinski would want to talk to her personally is a congratulations, which seems so ridiculous that she finds herself becoming nervous.

So when Stilinski’s secretary lets Allison into the room, Allison is relieved to find another agent already standing in the office. That means this is mission related, not an awkward discussion of excellent work performance.

But, wait…

“Sir?” She asks hesitantly, already dreading the words Stilinski hasn’t even said yet.

“Let’s cut to the chase, shall we?” Stilinski says, voice soft but stony and Allison realizes this is the third time she’s ever talked to Stilinski despite being one of the top five agents in The Beacon. Shit, this must be serious.

“Agreed,” the other agent chirps. She doesn’t seem nervous at all. That’s rather annoying. “I have a shitload of paperwork I need to yawn my way through regarding the Peterson’s ca—”

Allison’s eyes are wide in horror, but Stilinski cuts her off with an easy, “Already taken care of.” The girl beside Allison looks surprised for a second before immediately turning suspicious. Allison, too, levels their captain with an uneasy stare.

“Agent Martin, meet Agent Argent,” Stilinski gestures between them vaguely. Before Allison can properly offer the best spy this agency has ever had her hand in greeting, Stilinski has already moved on. “You two will be working a case together starting tomorrow.”

He pauses now, probably because he knows both girls won’t sit quiet about this.

Agent Martin frowns deeply at their captain. “I’m sure you know how adamantly I want to protest this —”

“Concurred,” Allison mumbles. Agent Martin sends her a fleeting glare.

“— so I’m just not going to. Why do we need to work together?” What? Surely that can’t be all she has to say? Agent Martin doesn’t work with people unless strictly necessary. The last agent Allison recalls having partnered up with Martin was Agent Reyes and she hasn’t returned to work since then.

Stilinski sighs heavily and motions for the girls to sit down so they don’t. Martin crosses her arms and Allison waits calmly. Stilinski frowns. “Agent McCall has gone rogue.”

Allison controls her facial expression which would be complete, unadulterated shock if she wasn’t so good at keeping her cool.

Agent Martin, however, laughs. Laughs. “Goody two shoes McCall? The pigs must be flying.”

Stilinski and Allison don’t laugh. “He’s been MIA for weeks but we’ve only received word from a reliable third party six days ago that McCall is no longer with us.”

“Sir, I saw Agent McCall in Morocco just a few days ago,” Allison says and wonders if she’s betraying Scott or trying to insist upon his innocence.

Stilinski frowns. “What was your purpose in Morocco?” Allison glances at the agent beside her before Stilinski sighs. “Confidentiality cleared, on my order. You can trust Agent Martin with whatever you need to ensure the success of this mission.”

“And what mission is that exactly?” Agent Martin jumps in. “Shoot to kill?” Allison’s blood runs cold. “Reintegration? Torture?”

Stilinski sighs again like they’re two annoying daughters asking pointless questions as opposed to the intelligent inquiring spies they actually are.

Allison says, “I was in Morocco to apprehend The Raven’s core group of intel.”

Agent Martin makes a noise that could be equated to impressed maybe. “And ended up apprehending Number One, I heard. Good job, Agent.” Allison is pleased but Stilinski doesn’t let her bask in success.

“Perhaps McCall was being recruited before they disbanded.”

“Can we be sure they actually disbanded?” Agent Martin stresses.

“As certain as we ever can be with con artists and grifters and hit men, I suppose.”

“Surely we can confirm no additional meetings are taking place by getting close to some of the team and expressing interest?”

“That’s not a job for either you or Agent Argent. We have agents on it and confirmation of disbandment or re-instigation will come soon. For now, we have to move along and find McCall.”

“Right, Morocco.” Agent Martin and Stilinski finally seem to remember Allison being in the room and turn to her at the same time. She fights down her anger, knows already that she is just being used because she knew Scott. She has to make a split decision: help Scott or keep serving this organization faithfully?

She takes a breath and admits, “He was in the home of a local, just seemed to be staying as a guest.” She’ll be helping Scott, in the end. She can’t even fathom how he could have abandoned the one thing he cared most about. Helping people has always been Scott’s best quality and worst weakness. “He insisted he was traveling. I figured he had some type of temporary leave.”

Agent Martin snorts. “Because spies get so much time off.”

Allison frowns at her soon-to-be partner.

Stilinski shoves a stack of files at Allison and then hands Agent Martin another slightly larger one. “You will go over every detail regarding McCall’s disappearance. You will share every tidbit of information with each other. And you will find McCall and bring him back to us. Alive.”

They’re ushered out of the room with little more information given.

“Well, Agent, let’s get to work.”

“What first?” Allison frowns, adjusting the weight of the pile in her arms. She hopes the answer isn’t what she thinks it is.

Agent Martin says no more, but leads the way. Allison figures that’s a bit telling of what this partnership will be like.

+

**_Lydia_ **

**1130 hours**

It’s a bit more than demanding, this job. She’s been tortured and poisoned and scaled skyscrapers all to acquire information or apprehend someone. She has had to change her name more times than she can count and burn aliases as quickly as they’d been created. It’s draining, but manageable.

This, what she’s doing now, is most definitely not.

“Look, Agent, you’ve got to—”

“You can call me Allison, _Lydia_.” Argent is the height of entertainment, really.

Lydia rolls her eyes. “You will find I am inclined to do as I please.”

Argent glances at the techie they’re working with to accumulate information about McCall. McCall! She still can’t believe the sweet, hard-working agent gave up his loyalty for… Well, for what, they’ll find out.

The techie clears his throat. What was his name agent? Lay-something. Lydia shrugs it off and continues forging her passport. ‘Holland’ isn’t the most blend-in name she’s been given but sometimes the more conspicuous the lie, the easier it is to believe.

“I can’t believe Agent McCall went off grid and _turned_. He was the best spy we had!” The techie is saying as he works on some contraption for their mission.

Lydia rolls her eyes but doesn’t interject; she has to concentrate on letting the wet ink dry perfectly so the passport looks legit. The techie suggested using The Beacon’s machine but Lydia is a decent enough forger to trust herself over a series of computer actions. The Beacon may be the agency she swore her life over to, but she doesn’t trust anyone other than herself.

Argent has her passport ready to go beside her. Lydia wants to rant about authenticity again but she bites her tongue.

“When we find out what he’s up to, I’ll send him your praise, Isaac,” Argent quips and Lydia fights a laugh. Clearly Argent’s as fed up with this whole procedure as she is. It’s honestly the worst part of the job — endless paperwork, tedious attention to detail, no fresh air. Lydia’d bet Argent’s itching just as badly as she is to get out in the field again.

So she wraps up her finished passport, grabs a few light folders, and throws everything into her bag.

Argent glares at her. “That’s all the information you’re taking?” She sounds skeptical, angry, and tired. Lydia wants to snap back but more than that, she wants to get the hell out of Croydon.  And as far away from this dingy room as possible. The base is nice in that it blends right in to the street, isn’t even too far from a Sainsbury’s. But sometimes Lydia sees the appeal in something as glamorous, albeit obvious, as a STARK tower.

Lydia hardly glances at Allison as she heads for the door. “You’re free to take as much as you want but I prefer to travel light.” And she whisks out of the underground opening without waiting for her partner.

+

“This isn’t the airport,” Argent says after twenty minutes of silence. Lydia frowns. If Argent’s senses are this slow, why did Stilinski name her one of the top agents? Couldn’t Argent just have been debriefed and asked to give over all her knowledge of McCall rather than actually be in the field?

Lydia fights back a retort. They have not exchanged one pleasant word since the moment she and Argent walked into the techie’s lab and it’s driving Lydia a bit mad. People _like_ Lydia; it’s her whole job to make people trust her and quickly. Sure Argent’s a fellow spy, but even spies have trouble resisting Lydia’s charm more often than not. Why was Argent being so stubborn?

“We are far too light on weapons,” she says instead, grins when Argent glances into the backseat at their guns.

“Your definition of light is a bit worrisome,” she snorts but doesn’t protest as they pull up to a large cabin a few miles from any other house. “Well, alright. Let’s go meet your reclusive informant and then be on our way. The plane leaves shortly.”

As if Lydia didn’t know. “Stay in the car, Argent,” she demands before getting out herself.

“Like hell,” she hears Argent mumble before the passenger door opens and shuts. It’s a bit more than frustrating but she still heads for the side door and knocks in a string of rapid hits, hoping Argent isn’t holding it to memory.

“Lydia!” Comes a voice from inside before the door is opened wide in welcome. Cora smiles brightly at her before narrowing her eyes at Allison. She gives Lydia an unimpressed look.

“This is my partner, Cora, it can’t be helped.” Cora relents and lets them both inside. Lydia touches her arm gently in thanks. “Love this place.” Cora smiles and Lydia relaxes. The last thing she needs is to lose Cora, who is, without a doubt, the best informant she’s ever had.

She’s also the only person Lydia considers a friend, but that’s not the purpose of this trip.

“One of our agents has gone rogue. We will be chasing him all over the globe, most likely. Could you dish out a few of your best?”

“Do I ever disappoint?” Cora smirks, barely glancing at Argent as she leaves the room to go into her lab.

“What exactly does she inform you on?” Argent asks.

Lydia frowns. “You don’t expect me to actually answer, do you?” Argent crosses her arms defiantly. Lydia narrows her own eyes. “I wouldn’t grill you about your informants so grant me the professional courtesy, hm?”

Argent looks a tad uncomfortable. Lydia scopes out her posture and tells before she thinks she hits the mark. “You don’t have any informants, do you?” Ha! And Lydia thought she was the independent worker.

Argent opens her mouth probably to shout at her but Cora is back in the room before she can.

“Alright,” she says. “I expect we can skip the safety rules?” It’s a joke, but it falls short like they so often do. Lydia still smiles. Cora continues as if she knows Allison won’t say anything unless necessary. “This is all the standard materials, velcro knife holsters that go around your lower leg, razor sharp hairpins, etcetera, etcetera.” She drops an even amount on either side of her. Allison starts putting things on right away. Lydia waits, excited for Cora’s higher level products.

“This is knockout gas disguised as lipstick,” she hands it to Allison and Lydia tries not to feel disappointed. “This is a short-lasting poison placebo; it’ll temporarily cause a person to suffer symptoms of a poisoning long enough for you to make people panic and extract information.”

Lydia takes it. “Nothing wrong with a few threats, I always say.”

Cora takes out two gun cases and this is when Lydia gets excited. Allison, too, looks curious from across the table.

Cora spends too long describing the guns she chose for Allison and Lydia but both girls take them with appreciation anyway. Working with The Beacon for so long has taught Lydia what a good gun looks like and these are top-notch. Only US government grade guns could beat this.

“Thank you, Cora,” Lydia says playfully aiming the gun right at her. Cora rolls her eyes and shoos them out the door. Allison walks back to the car, none of her hidden weapons visible. Lydia lingers, never knows when the next time she’ll see Cora again will be.

Her friend smiles. “And I always thought I was your preferred field partner.” She is, and she knows it, but Cora’s been out of the field for a solid two months now and Lydia does her best to respect it and not pry. “Anyway, I snuck a tracking chip on her gun, so.” Lydia laughs.

“Take care,” she allows herself to say and it feels okay to admit it when Cora’s eyes soften and she nods.

“You too.”

The door shuts behind her and Lydia grins at the gun in her hand. She tucks it behind her and takes a breath. Now the mission has officially begun.

+

**_Allison_ **

**0400 hours  
** **Prague**

It feels like an endlessly long flight even though it’s just over an hour. Allison gave in to Lydia’s demand that they should learn a bit more about each other. It’s safe to say they’ve both been assessing each other since the second they met, but it’s a bit nice to be able to ask Lydia a question directly and receive… well, at least an answer of some type. It’s probably never the truth, but still.

“I have to admit, what you did in Morocco was pretty clean work, Argent,” is the first thing Lydia says to her that isn’t a probing question. Allison allows herself a smile. “Too bad you couldn’t apprehend McCall then and there to save us all the trouble, though.”

Allison blanches. That’s ridiculous! Allison didn’t know Scott had gone AWOL.

But would she have arrested him if she had known?

And wasn’t that the problem with this whole mission? Why wasn’t the agency concerned about Allison being unable to bring Scott in? Were they testing her? Or did they really just think she could separate her emotions from her duty that well?

Lydia nudges her shoulder and Allison flinches, feeling a bit caught out and still a bit angry from the insult regarding Allison’s intuition. She’s about to say as much when Lydia nods her head towards another passenger.

Allison fights down her surprise. That’s Stilinski’s son. He goes stupidly by Stiles, and he’s supposed to be a good few miles away, in the U.S.

Lydia laughs which is a bit surprising. “Think we should tell our supervisor that his son is skipping out on classes for a first class trip to the Czech Republic?” So, Allison supposes they’re not telling with how amused Lydia is by the whole thing. And anyway, perhaps Stiles knows something about Scott. While Scott wasn’t meant to stay in contact with Stiles after Scott had been recruited, he and Stiles were too close to fully obey that one rule.

“What are you doing? Lay low, Allison.” Lydia hisses, yanking Allison back into her oversized seat. Ugh, she hated first class travel, preferred to blend in among crowds; it always feels safer.

“Watch the name!” Allison snaps in a low voice. It’s always better to start using cover names immediately, experience has taught her.

Lydia just shakes her head, annoyed with little reason to be. Allison knows Stiles well enough to navigate cautiously through a conversation with him. She’s clever too, even if Lydia doesn’t seem to think so.

“We’re supposed to be partners, build trust and all that,” Allison mumbles, a bit hurt but mostly tired and angry. She hates having to prove herself to people, prefers to manipulate and get out quickly.

“Stick to your part of the mission and cover my back. That’s the partnership this is.”

Fine. She’ll bring Scott in and be done with him and Lydia for good, that’s her part of this mission.

+

They reach the hotel and cause way too much of a scene for Allison’s liking but she really can’t be expected to stand by and let Lydia talk down on her.

Incident one: The cab driver waved them off when they both argued about how much to tip. Lydia refused to give the poor man more than strictly necessary because the cab smelt “like something decided to eat its roadkill in here and then died itself”, which was a bit too much for Allison so she just let it be. She apologized to the driver who she was sure gave the hotel employee getting their bags a warning look.

Incident two: The hotel manager at check-in had to ding the bell to get them to stop shouting about who got the room with the balcony, even though they both knew they’d only be here a day at most. It’s not their fault they’ve been taught to always have more than one exit in sight at all times.

Incident three: The bellhop who initially took their bags in backed away steadily when they both started up the tip fight again. This time, the hotel’s colour scheme wasn’t eye-pleasing enough, or it clashed with the carpets, or something along those lines. Allison tried to insist that wasn’t the employees’ fault but the bellhop was already gone when Lydia begrudgingly pulled out a $50.

Allison felt ridiculous but biting her tongue didn’t work when Lydia looked so smug; Allison just had to fire back comments. After all, her inability to sit back from a fight is what attributed to some of her best victories for The Beacon.

They get off the elevator and Lydia dramatically bows Allison ahead of her like Allison’s the one acting like a princess.

Allison slams her door shut and fumes all the way through her nightly routine. They at least both agreed to scope out Scott’s last location in the morning.

Once in bed, Allison starts sifting through the files on Scott. Again. Partially to help simmer her anger, and partially because it just doesn’t make sense. She knows Scott.. Or knew Scott. There has to be a decent reason for him to have gone AWOL and then be allegedly involved in the theft of a Braque painting. She can’t even recall Scott showing an interest in art before, let alone any collective intent.

Which is one of the plenty reasons why it seems pointless to have her be on this mission solely to able to get into Scott’s head, predict his moves, know his next ten steps. And besides, she’s good for more than that anyway. She may not have an informant with ridiculously spy movie-esque supplies, but she has her mind and that’s been good enough so far.

Allison frowns at herself. More than good enough. She’s one of the best agents ever produced from the agency. Hell will freeze over sooner than her allowing that very agency tear her down to being worth nothing more than intel.

She starts up a fire in her room’s fireplace and begins burning all of Scott’s files, refusing to leave a trace of him here for people to find.

+

“Reid!” Comes a loud voice a couple hours later. Allison sits up and rubs at her face before recognizing the voice and name being hollered. Reid, that’s her new alias. Her and Lydia were required to form an entirely new identity for this mission because no one has an idea of how long it’ll take to catch Scott and bring him in.

“Be out in ten!” She shouts back, unconcerned if her partner heard or not. She showers for ten minutes, knowing it’ll be a long day, and then changes into an outfit she thinks will help her pass as a travelling uni-age kid. Which, Allison grins, technically she is, minus the whole spy life.

As per tradition, she leaves the room empty of any trace of herself, even the fireplace has been cleaned out. Check out is at eleven anyway so she supposes she did the cleaning service a favour. She takes the stairs, a habit ingrained in her since basic training, and meets Lydia in the hotel’s breakfast room and takes the offered to-go cup warily.

“Tea,” she assures Allison. “Orange Pekoe, two milks, no sugar.” Lydia smiles at Allison’s mild surprise. “I took the liberty of reading up on you so that the tea  is to your liking, rest assured.” Allison smiles back a bit sheepishly. She feels embarrassed by her behaviour last night, even though Lydia had wholly engaged in the childish arguing too.

“Look, I’m sorry for the whole thing yesterday,” she relents. “I’m not used to working with other people.”

“It’ll take some getting used to,” Lydia graciously agrees. “Enough of this. Put on your backpack and let’s go out for breakfast.”

+

**_Lydia_ **

**1030 hours**

The restaurant is actually really lovely. Lydia can picture herself spending days on end here. Well, truthfully, days at most. She doesn’t deal well with staying still.

Which is why this is a beautiful place but also tremendously dull.

“I’m all for pastries for breakfast, Reid, but we’re going to be waiting forever if we have to wait till this place empties out,” Lydia says, trying to convey exactly what she means without worrying about the oddly large number of occupants overhearing.

She had reluctantly agreed to go with Allison’s plan. They were to scope out the restaurant as sources say Scott has been seen eating here. Unfortunately Allison thought the best time to spot him would be in the midst of a crowd, easier for them to go unnoticed by a trained spy. But they’ve only just gotten in through the doorway, the remainder of the line still out the doors. Apparently they have live music and someone locally known — and obviously adored — is about to do a soundcheck.

Allison nudges her elbow and nods at a busboy clearing a table. Lydia pushes her way through people to get to the boy now staring hesitantly at her.

“Can I help you?” He asks in German, eyes glancing cautiously at his fellow employees at the register.

Lydia smiles kindly before giving out an exasperated sigh. “Yeah, actually. My friend Reid here met this boy last night and we were supposed to meet him for breakfast this morning but we ran a bit late and now we can’t seem to find him. Did you see him, by chance?”

The boy looks more in shock that Lydia is speaking German than the fact that ‘Reid’ has shacked up with a foreigner. Perfect.

“Um, what does he look like?” The boy responds back in English.

Lydia glances at Allison who almost laughs out loud at Lydia’s expression. Allison had failed to tell Lydia that people speak fluent English here. She can’t be too angry, though, as she should have read up on that herself. Still, she raises an eyebrow at her partner and watches Allison roll her eyes but step forward to describe what Lydia assumes is the last look she saw Scott have.

The boy looks a bit relieved after the description Allison gives.

“Yes, he and his friends just left out the back door in quite a hurry. Didn’t even stay for the show.”

Allison frowns. “How many friends?”

The boy (Lydia notices he’s not wearing a nametag. She also notices all the customers behind her, the era this restaurant must’ve been decorated in, how many paintings are original pieces, and how many people are working the front counter, but that’s beside the point.) says, “two,” and then skeptically adds, “did you not know he would have friends coming along?”

Allison takes the question and actually does quite well in diverting. “Of course, it was meant to be a double date. Did they happen to say where they were going?”

The boy looks uncomfortable. He is probably thinking of some girl he tried to outrun in the past and wondering where in the bro code this situation falls. Ugh, Lydia is so bored of this place. “Look, all I have is the signature on their cash receipt.”

Allison holds out her hand expectantly, but patiently, and the boy seems to let go of his reservations and hands her the slip of paper.

Lydia watches Allison’s eyes widen a bit before she passes the boy back the paper, pats his arm, says “thanks”, and hurries them out the back door too.

“Al— Reid?”

“Hale.” Is all Allison says and it’s enough.

“Shit. Alright, gun out, let’s go. They can’t have gotten all that far.” Lydia reaches behind her back to grab for the gun tucked into the waistband of her jeans, but Allison smacks her hand.

“We are not blowing our cover so soon. They could be ages away. Besides, there’s this really clever invention called a vehicle; it makes transportation quick and—”

Oh, ew. She’s hungry and tired and has no time for dealing with sarcasm. She cuts Allison off from further angering her. “We are losing them!”

“We’ve lost them,” Allison snaps back. Her eyes are blazing with annoyance and Lydia knows a lot of it isn’t at her; it’s at the narrow miss. “We have no more intel so pull yourself together. We are going back to the hotel and reporting this.”

“You’re supposed to be able to know Scott, predict his moves, be eight steps ahead of his own plans,” Lydia argues though they are already walking back to the hotel. Lydia hates this. She feels uncomfortable, like there’s a full-body itch underneath her skin. The seemingly blind case just proved to be very real and very on track. Yet they’ve already failed.

“Scott must’ve seen us in the line before we got in through the doors,” Allison mutters, mostly talking to herself. Lydia huffs but bites her tongue. “Fucking Derek Hale, though, can you believe it?” Lydia can’t. Scott may have gone rogue, but working with the one person The Beacon has never been able capture, the one who keeps evading Lydia? That is an all-time stab in the agency’s back.

Derek Hale is the most notorious thief to anyone with a bit more knowledge than a google search of ‘the world’s best thieves’. Lydia remembers her agency teaming up with other organizations just to get closer to Hale. They never have. Lydia cannot believe she almost had him in sight, after all this time.

“Cocky asshole left us his name on purpose,” Allison continues. Lydia feels the anger echo in her. This is more than a failure; it’s a slap in the face and a wave goodbye.

+

Stilinski thinks they’ve failed, too, when they fill him in a couple minutes later.

“You two are meant to pool together your skills to be _one_ excellent spy.” Lydia wants to feel reprimanded, but Allison made them drink some tea and breathe before ringing up their captain. Lydia mocked her need to relax, but it did help pull Lydia back into sorts. She knows Allison is right; they had nothing else to go on.

“Sir, if I may be so frank, we have little to go on here. This could be qualified as a success.” Is she nuts? While she rationally knows they did all they could, Lydia’s still never felt more like a failure. Allison continues, “We know our intel on Scott is correct. We know he is working with Hale. And we know where they are going.”

Lydia’s head snaps up from rifling through Scott’s file. Allison knows? Why did she let Lydia sit here and read all this then? Ugh, this morning is the worst.

Stilinski doesn’t have time for Allison’s musings either. “Alright, Agent Argent, duly noted. Now where are Scott, Hale, and Number 3 going?”

Allison smirks.

+

 

**2130 hours  
** **Amsterdam**

Amsterdam. They’re out clubbing under the guise of being uni dropouts with actual uni dropouts. Lydia can’t remember the last time she had to pretend to be shitfaced to get intel. This is her type of mission.

She glances towards Allison who is chatting up the occupants of the bar.

Lydia still can’t believe she figured it out simply through remembering a conversation she and Scott had once of wanting to spend a night in Amsterdam after a morning in the Czech Republic. She, in fact, doesn’t believe it. Allison is withholding information but Lydia is doing her best to give her partner the benefit of doubt.

Stilinski believed her anyway, so she really has Allison to thank for this much needed atmosphere.

It’s impressive, is what Lydia wanted to say when she actually said something about Allison finally proving to be useful. She felt bad, doesn’t even know why she said it when it wasn’t what she meant at all. She’s just so used to keeping people wanting to please her that she has gotten awful at dishing out compliments unless she’s on the grift.

Speaking of which… Lydia shakes her head and allows the group of girls and boys she’s sitting on the couch with to coax her into another round of Never Have I Ever.

So far, she’s learned that none of these people actually live here except Matt. So now she’s using all she’s got to making him feel like she’s worth opening up to. It’s a bit of a slow process and she hopes Allison is doing better so they can get their information and just relax for the night.

Lydia drinks another shot, thanks training for the higher tolerance level she acquired. By the bar, Allison’s drinking fruit blends so at least she’s as sober as can be. Lydia glances around the dance floor again, still on the lookout for Scott and Hale.

“So,” says Matt, and Lydia knows she has him. “How long are you in town for?” The girl sitting to Matt’s left, “ooh”s at the remark. Lydia nods her head to the dance floor and says, “dance with me and I’ll tell you.”

Seconds later, she and Matt are dancing closely together while Matt describes Scott’s appearance to her.

“That’s the guy!” Lydia exclaims like Matt just solved some extravagant mystery. Always make your mark feel smarter than you. “Oh, Allison will be so thrilled. Mind if I go tell her?”

Matt shakes his head so Lydia gets out of there quickly. She reaches Allison by the bar and grabs her by the elbow, smiling at the couple she was talking to.

“Excuse us,” Allison says kindly before raising an expectant eyebrow at Lydia when they’re outside. “I suppose you have a lead?”

Lydia nods and waves over a taxi. “Yes, and we’re closing in on them faster than they probably realize.” Probably. Because Scott knows their moves, knows the agency’s steps to capture a target. He can’t evade them forever, but she supposes he knows that too.

+

**_Allison_ **

**2230 hours**

Allison spends the evening being frustrated and jumpy, causing the partying kids she’s with to give her odd looks. It’s not her best undercover work and, though her and Lydia had been getting along quite well, Lydia finally bids her goodnight, allowing Allison to retreat to her room.

Nothing is adding up. And she doesn’t know what to tell Lydia.

Scott is leading Allison to him. And Allison is pretending she doesn’t know this. Because there has to be a reason a supposed rogue agent would tell a spy meant to capture him exactly where he is going.

He isn’t leading her into a trap, she thinks, because he keeps narrowly escaping them without anything bad happening to the girls. He’s trying to get a message to Allison, only she has been out of touch with him for so long she’s forgotten how to read his unspoken words.

The clematis flowers sketched next to Derek Hale’s signature on the receipt back in Prague was the only reason she knew to go to Amsterdam. The day Scott talked about those flowers was also the day he mapped out what Allison suspects to be his and his partners’ course.

She knows where to go next, and after that, and on and on. But she didn’t tell Lydia or Stilinski.

Scott must’ve known Allison would be curious enough to keep her mouth shut. And she will keep her mouth shut, is the thing. If Scott has been planning to go rogue since that conversation so long ago, then there’s a few dozen questions she needs answered.

It’s perhaps a bit alarming that no one suspects Allison to be working with Scott. The Beacon isn’t supposed to trust its agents this much, but perhaps they truly believe they’ve taught Allison to keep her emotions in check well enough that she won’t compromise this mission.

That or they’ve told Lydia to shoot her on the spot should things start to look suspicious.

Allison puts all this out of her head and pours herself a glass of hotel-offered wine. She sits down on her king sized bed with the glass and her laptop, and she starts sifting through the bookmarks she has saved.

The painting Scott allegedly stole is as odd as can be. Real, pricey, but completely unsellable. Allison knows every location the painting has ever been at, knows the ins and outs of any statements given about the original 2010 theft, knows the speculations about it ‘reappearing’, knows it has actually never resurfaced since its time in Paris’ museum.

But she doesn’t know what the hell Scott is doing.

None of the articles say anything worth remembering, but Allison tries to read through it all again, hoping that Scott is innocent, or that he has a reason.

So she reads up yet again on _L’Olivier Près de l’Estaque_ , on Georges Braque and his history, on those thought to be behind the 2010 Paris theft, on absolutely everything at the internet and at The Beacon’s disposal.

After a few long minutes of empty research, Allison sets her laptop aside and pulls back the covers to get into bed, even though its almost time for their next flight.

The sound of partying is heavy though it’s well into the early morning. Allison wonders if Lydia is celebrating with the locals, thinking they almost have Scott right where they want him.

She hopes what they find, instead of him, is answers.

+

**_Lydia_ **

**0930 hours  
** **Frankfurt**

Today has been the worst day of Lydia’s career.

She woke up and used the hotel shampoo only to have it make her hair red. Then she went to the lobby to yell at the manager except the elevator broke and the heat went on full blast. Lydia was finally rescued by firemen she hardly glanced at 8:04 and immediately got knocked to the ground by a big dog running through the hotel.

By the time she had gone back upstairs and into her room to shower and look moderately decent, it was almost 9:00 and Allison was calling her, wondering where she was.

So Lydia hailed a cab, endured the wretched smell of the car, or the man, ignored the fact that some kids having a water gun fight seemed to have a bet going on of who could soak her the most before she yelled at them, and finally sat down across from Allison on a chair that collapsed under her.

She brushes off the workers’ apologies and sits pressed up against Allison because there’s safety in numbers, she’s always been told.

Allison doesn’t complain about how wet Lydia is, instead pats her knee kindly. “You alright there?”

“Did you take the stairs this morning?” Lydia asks back. Allison nods, bewildered. Lydia nods back before snapping at the workers to just leave the chair alone and get her some coffee. They hurry away and Lydia relaxes at hearing Allison giggle in amusement.

Their night in Amsterdam was the first time Lydia felt like she and Allison connected. They’d laughed together amidst random kids they’ll never see again, and Lydia truly considered how great their partnership could be… Right until Allison starting retreating into her head and Lydia finally shooed her back to their hotel.

“Bad day already?” Allison sounds amused. Lydia snorts but it’s around a small smile. Allison’s not so bad, really. She still needs to learn to listen to and confide in Lydia more but she isn’t as stoic as Lydia first made her out to be and definitely not as useless. In fact, they’re only making headway on this mission because of Allison.

So Lydia dramatically vents about all the nonsense she’s had to endure in the short couple hours she’s been awake, hoping to relax their nerves a bit. Allison laughs at Lydia’s misfortune but this is just another reason Lydia feels like they’re getting along quite well.

Allison orders them both a drink, tea for herself, and coffee — one cream, two sugars — for Lydia.

Lydia raises an eyebrow at Allison who smiles and shrugs. “You’re not the only spy who reads up on their partners.”

Lydia laughs while she assesses the area around them, a quick reflex. That’s when she sees Stilinski’s son (who goes unfortunately by ‘Stiles’) wave at her through the window. As if seeing him here wasn’t already sending warning signals off in Lydia’s head, him seeming to recognize who she is proves to be alarming enough on its own.

She grabs Allison by the elbow, takes her coffee from the worker’s hand, and runs out of the shop.

Allison is running at full speed beside her, even though it’s clear she doesn’t know why when she asks, “What’s wrong?”

Lydia feels glad for the trust. She nods ahead of them. “That’s Stiles Stilinski. He waved at me all too smugly.”

“Shit, you don’t think…?”

Lydia does. Stiles is Scott’s second partner, and Lydia is not letting one of them get away again.

They chase after Stiles who has a fair head start. Lydia focuses on dodging people and gaining speed instead of the pestering thought in her head of why Stiles would’ve given up his involvement. For what? For a stupid game of tag?

Lydia glances beside her to make sure Allison is also still in pursuit, which she is, thankfully. They work better together, she has to admit.

Stiles gets a bit cocky, and yells, “Digging the red hair, Lydia. New shampoo?” Lydia nearly stops in shock. Stiles did this to her?! How and why? She gains speed, furious.

They reach an ally with no exit causing Stiles to turn unsteadily on his legs before hurrying back towards the sidewalk. But he makes the mistake of looking at back at them and Lydia almost feels like laughing when she watches him run straight into a pole.

+

It may look a bit strange to the occasional person that passes them by on the street, Stiles being pressed against a pole by a girl demanding he tell them what they want to know.

Stiles sets his jaw. Lydia loosens her grip. They’ve got him.

“Alright,” Stiles mutters. “I’ll take you to our base.”

“Call it in,” Lydia says to Allison who looks hesitant if only for a second. Lydia doesn’t get the chance to ponder why before Stiles is protesting. Lydia rolls her eyes. “Give it up, Stilinski Jr. We have you.”

Stiles’ eyes sparkle and for a split second, Lydia is worried. “I won’t give you any answers if you call for backup.”

Allison startles Lydia out of glaring Stiles down when she says, “Fine.”

“Agent!” Lydia half-yells in surprise. “Sidebar!” Lydia cuffs Stiles to the pole he ran into and drags Allison a few meters away. “What are you doing? We have him.”

Allison frowns. “Not really. We have him captured, sure. But if he managed to do all those things to you in such an effortless way, do you really think he’ll stay captured?”

Lydia is annoyed immediately. She hates that Stiles pulled such stupid stunts on her, like they really were kids in uni and this is all just in good fun. And now she’s further annoyed by Allison thinking Stiles is smart enough to get away, smarter than them, than Lydia.

“He’s probably bluffing!” She whisper-shouts. No use in Stiles seeing their formerly shaky partnership waver yet again.

“Probably,” Allison agrees. “But we do need a lead on their base. And it may lead us to the others, you never know.”

Lydia is incredulous as ever. Surely Allison doesn’t believe Stiles would lead them to his partners. Surely Allison knows giving in to the criminal’s demands is, more often than not, a mistake.

But Allison has been acting odd for a while now. Lydia’s not dumb; she knows Allison is still hiding something. But she has to support her partner to a degree. And more than that, she does trust Allison enough to begrudge her this chance.

So she glares but says, “It’s on your head.”

Allison unlocks the cuff from the pole and puts it around Stiles’ other wrist a bit apologetically. Lydia wonders if they knew each other better than either of them were now letting on. She read that Stiles was friends with Scott, but did that mean Stiles was friends with Allison too? Lydia just hopes they aren’t all working against her.

Still, she gets in the backseat with Stiles and lets Allison drive them to where they need to go.

+

**_Allison_ **

**1100 hours**

As expected, Stiles leads them to a cabin in the middle of nowhere. Allison is all too aware of how hard it becomes to keep track of their route. Which is probably exactly why Stiles led them here. She hopes Lydia’s internal navigation system is better than Allison’s.

Less expected, Stiles leads them to what appears to be their actual base. Or it’s staged as such anyway. There’s chemicals brewing in a glass hood and all types of materials laid out all over countertops. There’s an old school projector set up which is when Allison realizes they’re being played.

She supposes Lydia figured it out before her as Lydia has her gun aimed at Stiles before Allison can turn around and warn her. As it turns out, Allison is the one who needed warning.

She feels the floor shake under her and then it propels her forward so suddenly she slips and lands on her butt. That’s when robotic arms start spinning around her, tying her sufficiently tight in a rope. Well, that’s one way to trap someone, she marvels a bit. Stiles is definitely more impressive than she originally imagined. The three of them are going to be hard to beat.

Thankfully Lydia didn’t stand around and watch Allison get captured in Stiles’ contraption. She instead tackled Stiles down and cuffed him to a thin pillar in the middle of the room. Stiles looks put out, like he didn’t expect to be impaired in his own lair of traps. It comes in handy, people underestimating Lydia because she’s a girl and pretty, which obviously means she isn’t strong and smart.

Lydia looks as pleased as Allison is at Stiles’ near-pout. She turns to Allison, grabbing a blowtorch because apparently that’s cooler than using a knife to cut Allison loose.

Allison allows her the moment because it’s actually quite funny, this lab filled with movie villain supplies and robots. Allison is about to laugh, in fact, till Lydia swears and sets aside the blowtorch. She then tries the knife after all. Great, obviously they underestimated Stiles again.

Lydia crouches down in front of Stiles who looks annoyingly smug. Allison supposes two well matched brains should indeed feel proud for pulling one over the other.

“How do I get her out of the ropes, Stiles? What is that anyway, your own invention, underdeveloped nanomaterials?” She’s speaking in a sweet but sharp tone that makes Allison cringe a bit. Lydia is scary when she wants to be. It’s one of the many reasons why Lydia is the best agent around.

Stiles merely smiles.

Lydia sighs and comes back over to Allison. “I’m going to get help.”

“But…” Allison knows protesting now looks suspicious but she has to figure out what the hell is going on before bringing Stiles in to some facility where she’ll never be able to crack him. The Beacon is terrible at giving agents further information after they bring in a suspect. She can’t lose this chance to find out why Scott went rogue and exactly what he, Stiles, and Hale are up to.

Lydia smiles a bit sadly at Allison. “Not another agent,” she promises but that’s all Allison gets before Lydia is gone. Allison doesn’t allow herself to panic. If Lydia trusts Allison enough to not call for backup, then Allison should trust that Lydia is in fact getting another source of help rather than ditching her.

She focuses her attention on Stiles who is glancing around the room likely looking for an escape.

“Never got the chance to say hello,” Allison says a bit too kindly. Scott spoke highly of Stiles. He always made Stiles out to be this genius who wasn’t obnoxious as others and didn’t limit himself and used his talents for good.

Allison wonders when that changed and why Scott allowed Stiles to take him along for the ride.

Stiles looks at Allison with a smile. “I think my robots said all the hello we need.”

Allison isn’t budging so easily. “What are you and Scott doing stealing things with Derek Hale?” It’s quiet for long enough that Allison starts to break. “Scott said you helped people. Why did you take a pointless painting?”

“No painting is pointless. Even if it’s a scribble; it means something to someone, sometimes just the artist, sometimes countless people. But art is never without a purpose.”

It’s a nice sentiment, but he’s deflecting. Scott said Stiles was passionate about a lot. But art? Never. It must be Hale’s influence then. Derek Hale is brilliant, perhaps the smartest of all criminals. He’s evaded people for years and has all too many skills. One happens to be forgery. Allison wonders if that’s because he likes art, and likes it enough to talk about it with Scott and Stiles, enough that it’s seeped into their taste too.

She wonders how long they’ve been working together. She wonders why Scott is selling them out.

She bites the bullet. “Scott led me here.”

Stiles looks alarmed, annoyed, and then reluctantly resigned. He meets her eyes briefly. “Figured enough,” he mumbles. “Sends me here to keep an eye on you two but meanwhile he’s leading you closer.” He says it a bit too fondly and probably realizes that. His eyes and voice harden again. “And here I thought you were just clever.” Allison bites back a retort. “Wonder who he’d choose to rescue if he were here now.”

He doesn’t have to wonder. Scott already chose Stiles over his whole life. Scott gave up being a spy to be on the run with Stiles. Allison doesn’t say this, knows Stiles will give her something to go on eventually, after he’s done trying to rile her up.

He relents sooner than expected, voice kinder and more open.

“He’s always chosen good over evil, our Scott.”

Allison’s brain has but a second to think I knew it! before the sound of a car pulling up is heard.

Stiles looks at ease so Allison immediately worries. It could be his rescue or hers and she’s not sure which she is dreading more.

+

_**Lydia** _

Lydia ducks out of the room, knows Allison needs a few minutes to grill Stiles. She’s still disappointed at Allison for keeping secrets but it isn’t as though Allison has let her down yet. Besides, it could still be ages of them having to chase Scott and Hale down which means they have lots of time to build up complete trust and a proper partnership.

Till then, though, she calls up one of the only people she’s ever allowed herself to fully rely on.

“Lydia?”

“Cora, I need your help. I’m in Frankfurt and I know you’re not close, but—”

“I am. Give me your exact location.” Lydia is surprised. Cora hardly ever leaves her houses expect to move to and from her houses. She snaps out of her confusion when Cora says her name again.

“Right, yeah. I don’t know where I am, actually. I’ll turn on my GPS tracker,” Lydia replies. During their second and final year together, Cora installed a tracking system into Lydia’s necklace. In case of emergencies, Cora said instead of saying goodbye. Lydia has had to hunt her down with great difficulty if she wants to meet her since then. But she made a promise not to remind Cora how great a field agent she was so Lydia doesn’t bring it up again.

“See you shortly.”

Lydia glances around after Cora hangs up, wonders how far from a road they are. She lost track on their drive in, hoping Allison had better navigational skills than her. Anyway, Cora will know how to get them in and out now. Besides, Lydia sees a power line a little ways away. Surely they’re not far from some kind of facility.

She hears a car pull up and resists the automatic urge to hide because she recognizes the car. How in the hell…?

“Cora? How did you get here so quick? When you said close, I thought you meant one or two hours.” This is seriously odd. Lydia needs a second to process what’s happening.

But Cora’s always been more focused than Lydia. She settles a hand on Lydia’s shoulder and firmly asks, “What’s the big emergency?”

Lydia remembers Allison is in there alone with a rather clever criminal. She says, “Allison’s trapped inside with Stiles.”

Cora takes off into the house, leading the way through the halls Stiles had taken them through not too long ago.

“Where were you?” Lydia asks, still wondering what on earth Cora would be doing in Frankfurt.

“I was on my way to Munich,” Cora says. From Frankfurt? “What is Allison trapped in?”

“She’s tied with a rope that has some kind of… I don’t know, repellent chemical; it just won’t cut loose.” They’re in the room then. Lydia blinks. How did Cora know where—

“Lydia get me that red test tube over there. It will melt through the carbon fiber,” Cora says, jogging over to stand nearby Allison.

But she’s also near Stiles. Lydia freezes. This isn’t at all adding up. Cora got here too soon, she knew where Stiles and Allison were, she knows what the rope is made of just by looking at it, she knows which solvent to use… How?

But Cora is her friend, her only real trustee. Lydia has to believe her, she just has to.

She turns her back to grab the test tube and it’s already too late.

She hears Allison says, “Lydia already tried the blowtor— Hey, what the hell are you doing?!”

Lydia turns and stares in mild disbelief as Stiles brushes his now free hands onto his pants and then grins at Lydia. Her eyes meet Cora’s, shocked, hurt, disappointed.

Cora blinks and runs, Stiles hot on her heels.

“Lydia, go!”

Lydia doesn’t. She needs Allison anyway.

“Lydia, your informant…?”

“Shut up, Allison,” Lydia whispers, trickling the chemical onto the ropes. It sizzles and disintegrates because of course it does. Who even is Stiles Stilinski anyway? Allison stretches out her arms after getting free. Thankfully, she doesn’t force Lydia to chase after their long gone targets.

“You couldn’t have known, alright?” Allison tries, voice firm and kind. She nudges Lydia’s shoulder with her own. “We have to get out of these woods and maybe we’ll catch up to them on the road, hm?”

Lydia takes a few seconds to herself. Then she breathes out and nods, meeting Allison’s eyes with determination. They’re going to take them down. Today.

“Let’s go.”

+

_**Allison** _

**1200 hours**

“Okay, I have absolutely no idea where we are. Do you?”

Lydia shakes her head. “Was sure you’d be the one with an innate sense of direction what with how outdoorsy you are.”

Allison frowns. She’s the furthest thing from outdoorsy, never once passed the what plant will save you from hunger? question in a few of The Beacon’s regularly issued exams. “What makes you think I’m outdoorsy?”

“The flower you keep doodling in the margins of your paperwork,” Lydia shrugs but her eyes are searching Allison’s like they so often do. It’s not Lydia’s fault she has to try to get a read on her anyway; Allison’s the one keeping things from her partner. Still…

“You read my paperwork?” Because that seems a bit invasive for people who are meant to work together with trust as their main form of communication.

Lydia sighs, annoyed or disappointed, Allison can’t tell. “Yes, to find out what you know about Scott that you aren’t telling me.” Well, that was incredibly direct. “Look, we’ll put a pin in it, okay?” Which is as gracious as Allison thinks Lydia gets so she nods. “Right. So, how do we escape this mountain? We must still be in Germany at least; we weren’t driving for too long.”

Allison sighs but glances around hurriedly. Nothing too helpful. “Think we could just drive down and hope for the best? We’re probably not too far north of Frankfurt.”

Lydia frowns and then nods. “We may have to. The only other sign of human life is that power line that Stiles no doubt sucks all the energy out of.”

Allison fights back a smile at the bitterness, quip at the ready. Wait… A power line is good!

“I know how to get us out of here!” She exclaims, rushing to the trunk of their rental car. While Stiles and Lydia waited at the rental shop, Allison went back to the hotel to clear out and grab their remaining supplies. Now she’s grateful for the habit of taking everything with her (or disposing of it).

She grabs the pulley and harnesses and holds them up for Lydia. “Aren’t afraid of heights, are you?”

“Oh god, do we have to do this?” Lydia groans. But she takes hold of one of the two harnesses Allison has. “What if it’s another one of Stiles’ tricks? My hair’s still crying at the treatment it got this morning.”

Allison lets Lydia get her complaints out, figures she deserves a bit of distraction. Allison knows she needed some when she felt like Scott betrayed her. Lydia and Cora seemed close too, anyone could see they worked well together. Allison hopes she’s right about this team for both their sanity’s sakes.

“Alright, good to go.” Allison allows herself a parting glance at the car full of her things before meeting Lydia’s eyes again. “Sitting?”

“No, that always chafes,” Lydia sighs. “Stomach for me.” Allison doesn’t mind zip-lining herself, finds it’s as close to a moment of freedom as a spy can get.

She likes it even more for the height they’re at today. Lydia looks bored beside her but Allison loves that they’re soaring rapidly over trees.

But she has to be on the lookout for an exit point if they want to avoid being stuck in Germany’s mountains while their marks run all over the globe.

 

“Look,” Allison yells to Lydia. “That’s our stop.” There’s a small levelling out of the line before it continues further down into more trees. 

Lydia nudges her in affirmation. “Knife?” She asks, probably unable to reach her own. Allison nods and grabs two of the knives in the velcro wrap around her lower leg, concealed by her boots. They cut their harnesses at the same time and fall together, sticking their landings rather gracefully. They grin at each other as they remove the remaining harness parts from their bodies.

“Alright, there’s the road,” Lydia says after they both take in their surroundings. “Let’s go so I can call for backup.” She has her phone out already, holding it up for a signal. Allison panics and realizes she has to tell Lydia the truth now or she’ll never get the chance to talk to Scott.

“Wait, Lydia.” She takes a breath and meets her partner’s eyes. “I think there’s something more going on here.”

Lydia frowns at her. “More?” She asks skeptically.

“Like, I don’t think they’re up to anything… bad,” she finishes lamely. Allison watches Lydia’s face harden and she knows then that she’s lost her. “Cora may not be—”

“You mean, Scott may not be?” Lydia snaps. “False hope is a dangerous weapon, Allison.”

Allison frowns back. “Don’t you want to see if Cora is really up to the things we’re accusing her of?”

Lydia gaps at her. “She all but admitted it when she rescued our mark!”

“That’s not enough, not this time.” Allison needs confirmation in so many words. These criminals were their friends. “We need more proof. We can’t bring them in so soon!”

“I think the altitude has gotten to your head, Allison,” Lydia finally lowers her voice. “Just follow me and—”

“Lydia, please, I am asking you this favour as my partner,” Allison finally pleads. Begging. She has resorted to begging because she wants to prove Derek Hale innocent, what has her life come to? “Please trust me on this one thing?”

Lydia glares at her. “You’re going to get us killed.”

“So you’ll come with me?” Allison asks, a bit hopeful. She needs Lydia. It’s nice to have a partner, to have backup. It’s nice to just have Lydia.

Lydia narrows her eyes. “No.” Then, “You know where they are, don’t you?”

Allison blushes. She has a fairly good idea. “The flowers I’ve been drawing… They were a clue from Scott.”

Lydia takes it terribly. “Fine, trust his hidden messages. I’m leaving. Good luck.” She’s short and cold and all but gone before Allison finally lifts her gaze away and walks in the opposite direction, feet dragging, heart heavy.

+

**_Lydia_ **

**1300 hours  
** **Frankfurt**

For any partnership to work, trust of the highest possible form was needed. They were taught this back in basic training. Hell, they were taught this back in preschool. If you don’t trust someone, that relationship ends up falling apart quite quickly.

But it doesn’t feel like that with Allison. Because, somewhere along their journey, Lydia grew to believe in her partner.

That doesn’t mean she has to agree with Allison’s very stupid suggestion.

Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, and Derek Hale were all working together in crime but were also not bad? What could Allison even assume is happening?

And Cora. For fuck’s sake, Cora, whose last name she never even knew. She doesn’t even want to think about how mislead she was. She feels foolish, like she should’ve have seen it coming, should never have formed such an easy and lasting friendship with someone she didn’t fully know.

It makes her think twice about her new partner.

“Ugh,” Lydia groans. All Allison wants is answers. She isn’t looking to capture the criminals, or to hurt them, or even to bring them in. She’ll just march in there, toss her weapons aside, and ask them to explain everything.

For having worked alone for all these years, Allison is sure trusting a lot of people to be good at heart and have pure intentions behind their activities.

Lydia is up and out the door before she really allows herself to doubt Allison. They’ve done good work together; there is no point in pretending they don’t mesh well when all evidence says otherwise. Lydia and Allison are a team, and right now she needs to be there for her partner.

The street is empty enough of people that Lydia can hot-wire a car at random. She smiles when she remembers Allison insisting they rent one with Stiles as a hostage earlier today. It had felt like a waste of time but it did turn out to be beneficial.

Her smile slips when she recalls Cora driving up in her own car not too long after. While she silently thanks her former partner for placing a tracker on Allison’s gun, she won’t let Cora mistake Lydia making use of her weapons as her anger simmering.

Lydia is angry, dammit. And sometimes that allows for the quickest of captures.

She opens the car door and spares a thoughtless glance at the Leonardo Royal Hotel now responsible for her suitcase of clothing and stash of weapons (a mess the agency cleaners will have to take care of). Her attention is almost entirely on fighting back anger at her former partner and getting quickly to her new one.

Lydia leaves her phone behind. If she was ever going to actually call for backup, she would have done so ages ago.

+

**_Allison_ **

**1300 hours  
** **Munich**

Ultimately, she should’ve known they would end up meeting here. Scott talked about the building with even more excitement than he normally talked about things. She hoped she was right about Amsterdam and Frankfurt, but Munich? Munich she was certain about.

The building is a hotel called the Leopold, but Allison suspects the foursome’s lab would be in the basement. Scott always said the best thing about the place was its hidden rooms and compartments.

It’s surprisingly easy to break in downstairs without being noticed. She wonders if that’s why the four of them chose this as their real base.

She walks down a spiral staircase to a cooled basement lab, catching Stiles’ eyes first. He doesn’t seemed surprised or alarmed so she continues down and oh. That’s Derek Hale in the actual flesh and bone.

“Allison!” Scott says cheerfully. She glances at him a little warily, everyone hardly looking at her as they continue to go about their work. “So glad you joined us!”

“Finally,” Stiles mumbles.

“Hasn’t joined us yet, has she?” Cora mutters from behind one of her many laptops across the room. Allison wonders if she feels guilty for abandoning Lydia. Allison knows she herself does. She clears her throat against the sudden emotion.

“Um,” she says a bit confused at how lightly they’re all treating her presence when the agency thought she would take them all down easily. Granted, the agency doesn’t exactly know of recent additions to the group. Well, unless Lydia has already informed them of exactly what’s happening. In which case…

“I think I’ve unknowingly but willingly gone off grid?” Allison finally says. Stiles laughs and Scott brightens too.

“Yeah, thanks for that,” Scott says, finally setting down his… what is that? A map? Who uses maps anymore?

“Look, I just need to know…” Allison’s voice trails off. That Scott’s not in trouble. That they’re actually a motley crew of superheroes or something close. That they’re good. That she hasn’t been fooled. That Lydia has nothing to worry about.  “Everything,” she finally lands on.

Stiles is about to say something but Derek finally looks up from his… Is he building a frame, a replica of the Braque’s Paris display?

Forging, Allison reminds herself. He’s forging because he’s a criminal. They all are.

“Disarm first, talk second, Stiles,” he sighs, like its an old lecture. Allison spares a second to wonder yet again how long they’ve been doing whatever it is they’re doing. Because it’s not just stealing, she’s more sure of that now than ever before.

Scott frowns at Derek and then Stiles who goes over to Allison to do as Derek asked.

“Hey, c’mon, she’s been—”

“She’s been calm only because she’s curious, Scott. What do you think she’ll do with that gun once she has her answers?” His eyes are sharp as they glance at Allison briefly before settling calmly on Scott again. There’s a bit of a soft look that passes across both their faces before Scott turns to Allison.

She doesn’t make him ask. She takes out hidden weapon after hidden weapon before dropping her gun onto the small pile. She feels a bit vulnerable but when she meets Scott’s eyes again, he’s grinning and she smiles tentatively back.

“Alright, remember Prague?” Stiles says, clapping his hands together gleefully. Allison nods, declines Scott offering her a seat. “Well, we planted a lookout at your hotel. They let us know when you left to head to the restaurant.”

They knew Allison and Lydia would be going there, of course. The Beacon really should change up their routine checks when they’re hunting down a spy of their own, one who knows all the agency’s ins and outs better than most currently with the agency.

“So I had a massive crowd assemble by hacking a local musician’s twitter and telling Prague that he was doing a free show at the Sherwood.” Stiles looks so amused. She wonders if he spared a thought for what the crowd would do to the musician who didn’t show up, though she supposes the restaurant was probably pleasantly surprised by the breakfast rush.

“What about the painting?” She asks because that’s a pressing question. “Did you steal it?”

“Not really,” Stiles hedges.

Allison crosses her arms defiantly and knows she probably looks more ridiculous than intimidating what with her blend-in outfit — which consisted of a sweater littered with hearts and short shorts — and lack of weapons.

“We have the painting,” Scott admits. Allison should be arresting them; she has the confession she needs and enough circumstantial evidence to lock them away for years. But she knows there’s more to this, and she’s already gone this far — she may as well see it through.

“Since when?” She questions. Derek frowns down at his work but doesn’t speak.

Cora is the one who answers though she doesn’t look up at Allison either. “Since before The Beacon knew. It’s been maybe two weeks or so since they moved it.”

“And that’s when we met up with Cora,” Stiles adds, smiling at the girl who is still typing away at her keyboards. She does smile a little and Stiles looks pleased when he turns back around. “Derek, of course, tried to get her as far away as possible.”

“Till we persuaded him, as always,” Scott grins at a huffing Derek and this is without a doubt the happiest group of partial-criminals she’s ever met.

Still, time is ticking and she needs to know they’re not actually masterminding a takeover of some sort, starting with stringing Allison along.

“But what do you actually do?” Allison presses. “Why are you stealing a painting that could hardly be resold for half its worth?”

It figures as soon as she asks the main question she needed answered, Lydia storms in.

Derek swiftly reaches for Allison’s gun but he’s not quick enough. Lydia shoots Cora straight in the leg.

+

_**Lydia** _

Cora yells in pain and hits the ground, unexpectedly losing balance. Lydia swallows against any emotion, like she’s done so many times before on the drive here.

Derek Hale has Allison’s gun aimed at her now, so fast Lydia hardly gets the chance to redirect her gun before Cora is shouting, “Derek, no!”

Everyone pauses. Hale glares at Lydia as Scott rushes over to deal with Cora’s wound quickly and cleanly.

Lydia is confused. Why is the most prolific criminal aiming a gun at her head listening to Cora’s protests? Why is Cora protesting anyway?

“Derek, please. Allison’s got this. They’re not going to be a problem anymore.” Scott McCall is defending Lydia shooting down his partner, how odd. And he’s also promising that Lydia isn’t a problem anymore which she resents. Just because she didn’t shoot to kill doesn’t mean she won’t eventually. She just needs answers first, like Allison’s drilled into her head.

Allison makes her way in between Hale and Lydia, stepping right into his line of fire, god. That thought is what makes her look at Allison, finally breaking her focus from Hale.

“Lydia,” Allison whispers, standing close enough that perhaps no one can hear them. “I promise there’s an explanation here that will make you regret shooting Derek.” Derek? Allison’s been here all of half an hour and she’s already on a first name basis with Lydia’s worst mark?

Still, she says, “So what’s the explanation then?”

Allison blushes and Lydia almost smiles. It’s so like Allison to have a million questions and have all but the important answers. Working with her, though, has taught Lydia that Allison is rarely wrong and always gets to the bottom of things soon enough.

“Just so we’re clear, I don’t trust anyone in this room,” Lydia mutters as she tosses her gun into Allison’s pile of weapons. She meets Allison’s eyes after removing a few more of Cora’s designs.

Allison is schooling her expression into something neutral, but Lydia can read her quite well after a few non-stop days together. She sees the hurt her partner is trying to mask.

“Except you,” she adds gently.

Allison smiles back, small but honest. “Thanks, Lydia.” Lydia smiles back before focusing her attention back on Hale.

“Alright,” she says, spreading her arms out in mock surrender. “I’m clean. Move over, McCall,” she chides as she walks to Cora. Hale makes a noise of protest but Cora glares at him and allows Lydia to take over Scott’s job. Lydia avoids her eyes in favour of cleaning the wound.

“Now, explain,” she demands to the room at large. She can feel Cora watching her calmly, probably still trusting Lydia won’t hurt her even after being shot by her. “Someone make sense of this whole thing already,” she adds quietly. She’s tired of trying to put together a puzzle with so many people hiding away pieces from her.

+

**_Allison_ **

Stiles laughs loudly at Lydia’s exasperation. “Well, you already know I orchestrated your whole morning in Frankfurt.”

Lydia doesn’t spare him a glance, too focused on bandaging Cora’s leg tightly. Allison smiles; Lydia never allows people to take an inch lest they take a mile. But she did let Allison in.

She feels more comfortable suddenly, with this whole arrangement. Lydia and her may be disarmed, but they work together smoothly when they want to. Should things start to take a turn for the worst, Allison is sure her and Lydia can make it out together.

“Stiles,” Scott scolds but it sounds amused rather than reprimanding. He turns to Allison. “In Morocco, when you were in pursuit of The Raven, I posed as their commander.”

What? Why? How does that relate to anything?

“I hacked into the kill squad’s earpieces and Scott told them he wanted you back at HQ alive,” Stiles adds, nodding his head towards the computer Allison assumes he used to save her life.

“Uh, well,” she frowns. “Thanks?”

Scott takes it. “You’re welcome. It was surprisingly easy to direct them so they cornered you into that professor’s office. I knew you would use Lahey’s tech, so we made sure you’d land near the clematis garden of Derek’s last mark.”

Allison’s eyes are probably a bit too wide for her to keep her cool composure. “Just hoping I would get the clue?” She hadn’t, at that point. But it did make sense after she’d seen Scott’s sketch of the flower on Derek’s receipt back in Prague. That’s when the pieces clicked into place for her. It’s so like Scott to think she’d be able to put it all together through a series of planned events.

“You did, though!” Stiles defends. “I was surprised too. And Derek just about choked Scott when I said he was how you kept finding us.”

Scott doesn’t look guilty for having done it. Allison glances at Lydia who isn’t even completely paying attention, occasionally whispering things to Cora who already seems to have forgotten who shot her. Amazing. This group of people is actually incredible.

“I just needed us all to get together for a moment,” Scott explains.

Lydia finally speaks to the rest of the group. “Look, can we be debriefed about how you stalked Allison and I on our whole mission later?”

Derek looks a bit relieved, probably wanting to get back to the main point as much as Lydia and Allison.

Scott kindly nods at Lydia. “Right. So, what we actually do is steal things.”

Lydia snorts sarcastically but Cora flicks at her arm to get her to remain receptive. Lydia’s eyes meet Allison’s then. Allison tries to nod encouragingly and it must do the trick because Lydia motions for Scott to continue. Scott looks as though he hardly noticed the small pause, probably thinking of how best to plead their innocence.

“But we give them back,” he finishes. Allison doesn’t let her heart sink. There has to be more than that.

“You didn’t go through all this just to say you _borrow_ millions of dollars worth of artifacts, surely?” She can’t help but sound as incredulous as she feels.

“No, sorry! I mean we give them back to who they rightfully belong to.” Scott seems to be done speaking, satisfied with that answer.

Derek finally sets the frame down and wipes his hands on a towel as he joins the group.

“I’ve been doing this for years,” he says. Lydia appears to be as skeptical as Allison. She opens her mouth to demand more information, but Derek is already moving on. “Then Scott and Stiles practically threw their bags into my home and demanded they join.”

Allison wonders how Scott and Stiles even came to the conclusion that Derek was innocent, let alone how they tracked him down when no agency has been able to do that successfully. But that line of questioning seems like it’ll have to wait.

Scott stands up to walk over to where Derek’s frame is drying. He ssays, “And then we convinced Cora to join us.”

Stiles laughs. “Derek just about killed us.”

“Till we convinced him the best place to keep his sister safe was with him.” Lydia chokes and Allison nearly gasps. Scott frowns down at the frame, “Think it’s ready now, Derek?”

Lydia is staring at Cora with confusion but not mistrust. Allison tries to do the same for the remainder of the group. “What, so you stole the _L’Olivier Près de l’Estaque_ to give back to the Paris museum?”

Stiles smiles. “Not quite.”

Lydia sighs. “You didn’t need to steal it because you already had it, didn’t you?” She’s asking Derek who smiles a bit smugly. Lydia’s file had said she suspected Derek Hale of the Paris theft, but no one had ever been able to follow up well enough to prove her right.

Even now, none of them confirm or deny Derek’s possible heist. Which is fine, she supposes, when her and Lydia don’t trust their words either.

“We’re giving it back to a relative of Braque’s,” Scott says.

Lydia disbelievingly asks, “How do we even know you have the painting? This is a nice story and all, but where’s the proof?” Lydia does have a point. While she doesn’t think Scott would pull this soft of a story out of nowhere, Allison does see the uncertainty in their supposedly justified theft.

Derek glares at Lydia but Cora, who seems to have a pull on Derek’s decisions whether he admits it or not, nods towards the closet behind her. “We keep all our findings there.”

Findings. Like the came across priceless artifacts by happenstance.

Allison follows Scott and Lydia to the closet and feels her jaw fall open a bit when Scott unlocks it with a code and eye scan.

Some of the paintings and statues are instantly recognizable. Warhol and Degas works the most notable to Allison. But there’s a chest of jewels and various crates lining the walls of the rather large closet space. It’s a stash people would kill for. Then again, most of these thefts have been linked to Derek anyway and people have killed for a swipe at him.

“Is that a Braque sculpture? Are you giving that to this supposedly long lost relative as well?” Lydia sounds more distrusting than she had before. The loot really is too impressive to believe. How Derek would be willing to let go of some of these pieces is beyond her, and she doesn’t even collect art.

“Look, if we intended to make money off of any of this, don’t you think Derek would have his base in a nicer place than a random hotel’s basement?” Stiles jokes. But Allison has to agree with Lydia. This large and extensive treasure, because that is what this should be called, is too grand to lie in wait of rightful ownership.

“Take us with you when you deliver the Braque,” Allison demands. There’s a beat of silence, tense and uncertain. The two teams, intertwined as they may be, still don’t trust each other enough.

It’s Derek who sighs. “Alright,” he relents and shrugs in response when everyone turns to him with varying degrees of skepticism. “What?” He smiles. “It’ll be nice not to have to run from Lydia Martin for once.”

Lydia looks rightfully surprised. Allison nudges her shoulder. “Well?”

Lydia grins brightly at her. “Finally this mission is starting to feel like a success,” Lydia says, motioning for Derek to lead the way. The group disassembles but Lydia stays by Allison’s side. “Should things go wrong…” she starts.

“Then we’ve got each other’s backs,” Allison affirms. When Lydia smiles back, Allison knows that more than this mission has been a success.

+

**_Lydia_ **  
  


**1630 hours  
** **Paris**

They arrive in Paris later than expected after Stiles insisted they stop for a late lunch at a high end restaurant in Munich. Lydia was sure they looked like quite the odd bunch of friends, forcing smiles at each other and hardly conversing much at all beyond talking about the details of their Paris visit.

Braque’s granddaughter’s housekeeper lets them in. She looks alarmed at the large number of people and hisses complaints at Derek in thick French.

Derek is about to respond but Allison jumps in, telling the housekeeper that men don’t know how to take care of a sick woman well enough, that they’re really sorry for showing up unexpectedly, and that they were actually the heart of Derek’s team.

Lydia has trouble keeping up with Allison’s rapid delivery but the housekeeper laughs, relaxes, and ushers them into a beautiful sitting area.

Stiles gaps at Allison. “That was quite impressive.”

Lydia snorts. “Or showy.” But she smiles to let Allison know she’s joking. Allison rolls her eyes back, smile being poorly held back.

The housekeeper, Amelia, comes back with a tray of cookies and tea before informing them that she would see if Miss Braque was able to see them now. Scott and Stiles have a few dozen each, the butter cookies melting in their mouths; Allison stirs her tea to her liking and then helps Cora to a cup; Derek stares at Lydia with little indication of what he is thinking so she raises an eyebrow over the rim of her teacup, hoping she comes across as unimpressed.

They’re here to fulfill Jacqueline Braque’s dying wish, which would be tragic except Lydia has come close to dying so many times that she just finds it a bit dramatic.

Still, when Jacqueline sees the painting with her tired eyes a few minutes later, Lydia feels a sense of accomplishment so strong she feels emotional herself. She can’t recall another time in her entire spy career where that occurred.

Derek kicks her in the shin but neither of them say anything as they watch Stiles hang the frame right in Jacqueline’s view from her bed. She thanks them through tears and squeezes Allison’s hand as tight as she can with her frail grasp.

Derek bids her goodbye on their behalf and they walk out, each of them managing a goodbye in French.

They don’t ask Lydia or Allison anything right away, all of them walking at a leisurely pace along the boardwalk, Cora leaning into her brother’s side as he keeps his head down in a city he probably hasn’t visited for years.

She can’t believe this group of people. Their repertoires are so full of intelligence and yet they use their gifts to be half-criminals.

Allison, who is walking beside her, says, “You never would think people this clever could be doing something so reckless.” And it is reckless, allowing your name to be linked with treason and high profile thefts. “They are on the run from doing good things.”

Lydia looks at Allison, watches the gleam in her eyes glow under the park’s streetlights, wonders if her own reflect back the unspoken happiness.

“We’d been doing good things,” she tries because someone has to say it, what they’re thinking of leaving behind.

But Allison is already one-foot on board. “Have we?”

The Beacon has had Lydia take down weapons dealers, mobsters, and selfish businessmen. She’s been told to retrieve stolen goods, but brought them back to whatever curator had imported them from their original dwelling in the first place. Sometimes Lydia had trouble keeping her balance toeing the line between her orders and her morality. Sometimes putting a man behind bars didn’t settle much at all.

She wonders if Allison has also felt so lost in the grey of their agency’s activities. She thinks she knows the answer.

“So, then” she says with finality and feels the relief in her next breath, her mind already clearing, shoulders feeling lighter than they have in a long time.

Allison smiles and hooks her arm through Lydia’s. She doesn’t say anything else but they continue following the four people they were meant to capture, each step feeling a little closer to freedom.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading this, if you made it all the way through! As you can now see, this is the beginnings of a sort of [Leverage](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leverage_\(TV_series\)) AU, which is also where the title credit comes from.
> 
> Don't forget to check out all the lovely Allydia Reverse Bang fics. xo


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